Baby, you're the one who sets my soul on fire
by Queen-Of-Heroes
Summary: It didn't matter to her what he had done. They both had blood on their hands. Many people called him evil, others called him a devil. Entire nations quaked in fear of him. He was dangerous; he was a killer, a murderer. He was the great nation of Prussia, but to her he was just Gilbert Beilschmidt - Her best friend.


**A/N: Well I've wanted to write this for a long time now. I absolutely adore this pairing, I think they are so cute together and whilst I can't say I'm Austria's number one fan I tried not to make him out as a bad guy in this, sorry if I failed.**

**I hope you enjoy it :)**

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Baby, you're the one who sets my soul on fire

It was natural to get cold feet. Every bride went through this. It was _perfectly_ natural to want to grab the nearest chair and break through the glass of the window, before climbing out and running for dear life.

_Wasn't it?_

Well, that's what Hungary tried to tell herself as she paced around her bedroom.

She was nervous. She felt like she was going to be sick. She was uneasy and her knees felt like they were about to give in…..

And it wasn't even her wedding day yet.

It was close enough though. It was the eve of her big day and - yes, whilst it was natural for brides to get cold feet - Elizaveta did not think it was natural at all to want to go through such desperate measures to escape.

Most brides would indeed be nervous, but their love for their fiancé would out-weigh this and they would feel excited about their upcoming nuptials. Well that was all well and good for those women who actually_ loved_ the man they were about to wed.

This was not the case for Elizaveta. No matter how hard she tried she simply could not fall in love with Roderich Edelstein. At first she had tried to kid herself that it just nerves and that she was just worried because she wasn't completely ready for marriage…but there came a time where she couldn't deny it any longer. She didn't love Austria at all.

She did care for him of course. It wasn't like she wished him any harm but was that enough of a reason to marry someone?

It was now - as she paced back and forth - that she cursed herself for ever agreeing to this ridiculous idea.

She had said _yes_ for her country. She had said _yes_ for her people. She was a nation and she could not afford to be selfish.

Oh what would the other nations think of her now? The great and fearsome nation of Hungary reduced to being Roderich's obedient little housewife. She resented him for changing her. She _hated_ herself for letting him change her.

Elizaveta missed her weapons.

She missed wearing trousers and not these _stupid, impractical dresse!_

She missed hunting.

She missed fighting.

She missed swearing like a sailor.

She missed German beer.

She missed her friends.

She missed _him._

Her friends were all gone now. Hungary could not blame them after all that she had done. She wasn't herself anymore. She was there and she was not. She looked like Elizaveta, talked like Elizaveta but inside she was hollow and empty. _ He'd _taken what was left of her old self when _he'd _stormed out.

The green eyed woman stopped her pacing in the small bedroom. She paused in front of the bed, crouching down. The frills of her stupid _fucking_ gown kept getting in the way as she began to pull out her weapons from underneath the bed.

If Roderich knew she still had these he'd freak, she was sure of it. He was attempting to turn her into a 'respectable young lady' and whilst she may look the part, Elizaveta knew that she would never be what he wanted. It wasn't who she was, or at least, who she used to be.

She pulled out the long bow and a quiver of arrows that _he_ had helped her make long ago, back when (in the eyes of the world) they were just teenagers. It was the best bow she'd ever had. It had taken her awhile to get the hang of it, but, like with most weapons, she soon mastered it.

_He _had given her one of his widest smirks as he'd walked towards her one day. She'd shot an arrow at him and had purposely aimed it so that it missed by a couple of centre-meters. _He _had laughed and she had laughed. _He _didn't even flinch as the arrow went whizzing past_ his_ ear. They were both far too accustomed to war to let a little thing like that bother them.

They were probably the best years of her life, the ones she's shared with _him. _And _his_ brother had joined them on their sparring sessions, little Ludwig had been too small to participate though so he would just sit at the side and watched as the too fort. Sometimes they'd use swords, other times they'd both be unarmed and they'd just wrestle each other to the ground. He had been rough with her, never taking it easy on her, never treating her differently because she was a woman…_and oh, how she'd respected him for that._

It had been so long since she'd let herself dwell on him. So long since she'd even let herself speak his name.

Many people called him evil, others called him a devil. Entire nations quaked in fear of him. He was dangerous; he was a killer, a murderer. He was the great nation of Prussia, but to her he was just Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Her best friend.

It didn't matter to her what he had done. They both had blood on their hands. They were both a little lost, a little broken, a little scarred by their pasts…but they helped each other through it.

Now, however, she was on her own. Gilbert was gone and she would never see him again. All her friends had turned against her. Francis and Antonio had sided with Gilbert as had Ludwig and Feliciano. She had _no one_….other than Austria.

Not that that really counted anyway. She and her fiancé spent many evenings in the same room without even exchanging a word, the only noise being the sound of Roderich's _beloved_ piano whilst she sat in the corner and acted as though she _actually_ knew how to do needlework.

Some nights, like tonight, she would just sit in her room whilst he seated himself downstairs at his piano. It was a wonder that he hadn't already married the bleeding thing! He certainly loved it more than he ever would her.

They would be in a loveless marriage on both sides and she dreaded what would happen on the wedding night. She shuddered. She did not want to sleep with Roderich. It would be emotionless but he'd be gentle and then he'd leave. He wouldn't stay and hold her and sleep beside her. That's not the kind of relationship they had.

That was not how Elizaveta had imagined sex to be like (not that she had imagined it that much anyway). Her day dreams had often been of passionate kisses, of lips hungrily tasting skin. The loud _rip_ of clothing been carelessly torn off. Of her hands tracing down pale skin and rippling muscles that she had often fanaticized about as he had pinned her underneath him during particularly vigorous wrestling matches. Of moans of ecstasy reverberating around the walls, of sweat slickened bodies and silver hair gripped tightly between her fingers as they drove each other to the edge.

Those daydreams were rare now. It had been so easy before to imagine his face but now that image was slowly fading away. The last thing she could remember of him- the last image that she is sure will forever be _burned_ into her memory- is the final look he gave her. That cold, harsh, empty look of someone who had lost everything.

She had put it off for ages. The Hungarian had lied and had told Austria that she had done it a long time ago but it was only a couple of months before her wedding day that she decided that she _really_ had to tell Prussia.

She knew that, as she down with him on the couch, this would be the last time they'd be together. It was why she had left it so long. She tried to cling onto him for as long as she could but it was not fair on him- to drag him along like this, as if nothing was going on, as if nothing was wrong.

He'd sat across from her, he was laughing and teasing her about her frilly dress and she'd faked a smile and half-heartedly fort back. Roderich was at a meeting that day, she knew Prussia couldn't stand to be in a room with him, and besides, seeing Gilbert in the first place went against the deal she'd made with Austria.

Rule 1: stop of all this boisterous nonsense, settle down and behave like a proper well-mannered young lady.

Rule 2: take care of all the cooking and cleaning in the house as well as looking after any children that might come along later in the marriage.

Rule 3: Stay _the hell_ away from Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Well that was easier said than done.

Gilbert could tell there was something wrong. She kept shifting in her seat and she only smiled weakly at his jokes and his boasting of his _awesomeness_. His smiled faded.

"What's wrong, Liza?" he questioned, in a far softer voice than Elizaveta thought he was capable of "tell me"

She swallowed the lump in her throat "it's about Roderich and I" she began. His expression hardened at the mention of the pianist but she could tell he was trying to stay calm.

"What of it?" he murmured

"W-we're…..we're" She couldn't find the words. She looked down at her hands, not being able to look him in the eye.

"Spit it out, Liz!" he snapped.

The Hungarian warrior took a deep breath, clenching her jaw "we're getting married"

He sat further back in his seat as if the idea of being too close to her disgusted him "since when?" he asked, there was a bitterness to his tone. She tried not to wince.

"Since a few months ago" she said quietly

"And you've kept that from me all this time?" he stood up. She nodded. "If you're gonna marry that bastard you could at least have told me sooner!" he spat

Feeling a flicker of anger ignite inside of her she stood up as well "and then what Gilbert? Then what? You be pissed at me and wouldn't talk to me! I just wanted to stay with you for a little longer!"

"Don't, Liz" he shook his head "don't act like you care because you clearly don't. If you cared you wouldn't be marrying _Roddy_" he said the name like it brought a foul taste to his mouth "Why would you want to marry _him?_"

She froze. She didn't know what to say "I love him" she whispered.

He was fuming, she didn't know if she'd ever seen him this angry before and that was saying something.

There was a clear look of hurt in his eyes as he glared at her "no you don't" he said firmly.

"Y-yes I do, Gilbert" She insisted lamely "I do!"

"He doesn't love you" it was a statement that they both knew to be true.

This wasn't going well. She couldn't be doing this. Gilbert would talk her round, he would make her see sense and then she'd leave Roderich and she'd hurt her people. She _could not _do that. She had to get Prussia out of here. _Now!_

"Oh and what would you know about love, Gilbert?" she hissed, knowing this was going to be a low blow "you only care about yourself. You're only mad at me because I'm marrying someone _you _hate. You don't truly care about anyone, Gilbert. You just look out for yourself!" she regretted it as soon as she said it. She felt like breaking down and crying, begging him to forgive her but she didn't. She couldn't.

The Hungarian closed her eyes waiting for him to erupt. She'd seen it so many times before, many people feared the Prussian's temper…but it never came. She opened her eyes to see that he'd backed away from her.

He didn't look angry he looked calm, no…not calm – _empty._

"You know what, Elizaveta?" he said, not meeting her eyes "you're right"

It was unbelievable. She'd known him longer than anybody and this was the first time in both their lives he had ever backed down from a fight. The German never gave up, it wasn't who he was. He was a warrior, a fighter. The unstoppable Prussia finally defeated.

He started to grab his coat and head towards the door, she wanted to stop him but she couldn't speak. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes as it truly dawned on her that this was _the last time_ she'd see her best friend.

He glanced in her direction; his crimson eyes were dull and lifeless. There was no emotion there. He'd completely shut himself off to her and that hurt her more than she could say. "I hope you and Roderich are very happy together" even his words didn't convey any emotion.

He pulled open the door and left without a second glance. Her body jolted as the door slammed loudly behind him.

She wished he had shouted, she could handle his rage. She'd seen him angry so many times before that it didn't even shock her but this…._this_ new side of Prussia that she did not know, it broke her heart.

And she cried, for the first time in years she cried. Her knees finally gave way and she sat on the pristine floor of Roderich's living room and sobbed, her whole body shaking. And later, when Roddy had come home she had had his dinner waiting for him and she had to force a smile and make small talk and act as though she wasn't dying inside.

Elizaveta didn't sleep that night. She tossed and turned, her stomach twisting uncomfortably, her heart aching. She just wanted to curl up in a ball and give in, but she was Hungary, she was strong and she was brave and she couldn't go on living her life like this.

~X~X~X~X~

It was a week later when she finally gave in and snuck out of the house whilst Roderich was at work. She walked through the forest and across the shallow stream that trickled across the beautiful landscape. It was a rather long walk to the Beilschmidt residence but one she enjoyed and knew well.

It had taken a lot for her to knock on the door. She'd stood there for at least 20 minutes, trying to figure out what she was going to say. Her thoughts were interrupted when Feliciano pulled open the door.

"Miss Lizzie!" He chirped happily "I saw you through the window. What are you doing here?"

Her heart leapt. It had been so long since she'd seen any of her old friends, and Feli- kind, sweet –Feli seemed so happy to see her. "I, urm…" how was she going to explain herself?_ I came here to grovel to Gilbert? _That pretty much summed it up.

"Feli" A deep German voice boomed "who is it?" She didn't know whether to be scared or happy to see Ludwig as he appeared behind his Italian companion. The brunette froze as ice-blue eyes focused on her. She looked down at her feet, shifting uncomfortably.

"H-hello Ludwig?" she smiled sheepishly "Is, urm, is Gilbert here?" she asked

The blonde man shook his head firmly "he's out" he informed her, placing his large hand on Feliciano's shoulder.

Her stomach lurched, _Damn it!_

"Oh" she said, bowing her head slightly "C-could you tell him I called by?"

Ludwig nodded curtly before leading Feli back inside and closing the door.

The young woman trudged her way back up the path. It was no surprise to her that she received such a frosty greeting from her old friend. He had to stand by his brother, his brother who_ she _had hurt. Elizaveta only had herself to blame.

She glanced back at the house she'd spent most of her childhood at, looking up to Gilbert's bedroom window. The curtains were open a crack, she caught a glimpse of white and crimson before the curtains were pulled tightly shut.

Ludwig had lied, Gilbert was home. He just didn't want to see her.

She felt like she was going to be sick.

~X~X~X~X~

How could she go through with this?

Not only had she lost everything she cared about but she'd lost who she was as well.

She loved her people, and whilst marrying Austria seemed like the best idea for them, what good would it do them in the long run to live in a country that had no identity?

Elizaveta was not ready for marriage yet, and certainly not ready for a marriage to a man she didn't harbor any romantic feelings for.

Most women would be lucky to land such a man as Roderich. He was smart and handsome, talented and well educated….But he was too perfect, too pristine for her liking. She needed someone who set her very soul on fire, who she loved more than life itself. _Then_ she would be prepared to get married.

Until then, she had to end this.

It was a horrible thing to do, leaving the groom right before the wedding but she hoped Austria wouldn't resent her too much. She was certain he felt the same way about her. A marriage between them would never work; it was only a matter of time before it would break down. Elizaveta might as well end it now before anybody has the chance to get hurt.

She began gathering up the few weapons she'd managed to save from Roddy's 'spring cleaning'. She slung the quiver and bow over her shoulder and slid a small dagger inside her boot. Sadly her trusty frying pan was downstairs in the kitchen and if she went to get it her fiancé would surely notice.

The Hungarian didn't bother bringing any clothes. What was the point when all her old clothes had been thrown out in exchange for this more 'respectable' wardrobe?

She looked out the window. Yep, the storm was still going strong; she sighed but pulled open the window anyway. After all the battles and wars she'd faced she could handle a little rain.

Elizaveta paused slightly and stopped. She couldn't just leave without an explanation. Grabbing a pen and a scruffy old piece of paper, she quickly scrawled a note to Roderich, leaving it on the bed.

Approaching the window again she took several deep calming breaths. God, it had been so long since she had done something because _she_ wanted to. Not because _Roderich_ wanted to, not because _her people_ wanted to. This was for her and her alone. After all these years of sacrifice didn't she deserve to be a little selfish?

Hoisting up the skirt of her dress she began to climb out of the window. She knew there was a drain pipe very close to her window ledge (She'd planned this escape route many times before). The rain was coming down harder than she had predicted and as she stood on the ledge outside her window she was already drenched. Holding on tightly with one hand she reached out for the drain pipe hoping to God, or whoever the hell was up there, that it could support her weight.

Managing to get a good grip on the pipe, she carefully jumped away from the window. There was a loud rattling sound as the pipe reverberated against the brick wall. Taking a steady breath she began to edge her way down, her dress constantly getting in the way. _Seriously why would anyone ever wear one? _Her damp hair whipped around her, constantly blocking her vision and her weapons bobbed around on her back, threatening to fall off.

Elizaveta was glad when she finally felt the Austrian's prized flowerbed beneath her feet. She took a final look at the house. It was a grand place, a very beautiful house that anyone would be lucky to live in but it just wasn't her style. Looking through the sitting room window she caught a glimpse of Roddy sat at his piano. She smiled sadly. He wouldn't be very happy with her but in the long run this would be best for both of them.

And she ran. She ran as fast as she could, her lungs burning painfully as she choked in the icy air of the night. Her skin felt like ice but at the same time she felt too warm. It was unpleasant and uncomfortable and her muscles ached from lack of use but she kept going.

She didn't exactly have a plan of where to go but her feet took her down a long familiar path. It was a stupid idea, she knew. He'd surely slam the door in her face and then where would she go? Back to Roderich? She couldn't do that, not again. But that house, his house, was the only place she could think of where there might even be the_ smallest_ possibility of her being welcome.

Trees hit her face, arms and legs. She felt branches cut her skin but she didn't care. She slpashed through the shallow stream, not bothering to jump across the stepping-stones. Just as her body wanted to give in she caught sight of the house. There was a light on in the living room. It was very late but someone was awake.

The nagging feeling of doubt in the pit of her stomach threatened to overwhelm her but she'd already came this far. _She wasn't going back._

She slammed her fists into the door, knocking loudly, sobbing slightly. Hungary was a wreck; a crying, shaking, shivering wreck. Her wet clothes clung to her body her hair plastered against her cold skin. Roderich would be ashamed if he saw her right now but she knew the man behind the door wouldn't judge her for such a thing.

The door was pulled open. The house was dark apart from the light streaming in from the living room. Gilbert almost looked as bad as she did. His stark white hair was utterly disheveled, large circles could been under his garnet eyes, his already pale skin had a greyish quality to it and he reeked of beer but Elizaveta couldn't recall a time in which she'd been happier to see him.

"G-Gilbert" she stuttered, her bottom lip quivering from the cold and her crying.

"Liza" he said in barely more than a whisper, his scarlet eyes tracing over her woe begotten appearance and he stepped outside, not seeming to care about the terrible weather as he embraced her. She clung to his warm body as if it was the source of all life and neither of them could find any words but that was okay. They didn't need them. They both knew what had happened, what she had done. The choice that she had made.

She had chosen freedom over marriage.

She'd chosen happiness over wealth.

She'd chosen passion over duty.

She chosen love over obligation.

She had chosen Gilbert over Roderich and she didn't give a damn about what anyone said because in the end they both knew, no matter what happened, they'd come back to each other. He was the only who could set her soul on fire.

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**A/N: Damn it! I really didn't want to do a cheesy ending. I tried (and probably failed) to keep it more about Hungary than Prussia. Whilst I love Prussia I wanted it to be more about Hungary feeling as though she's lost herself on the road to protect her people and her relationship with Prussia reminds her of who she really is and is the key to her old happy life**

**Argh, this is why I shouldn't write deep Fan fiction XD It doesn't work out how I want**

**Anyway, hope you liked it! Please leave a review if you have the time :D**


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